“The difference is that you could put things right. You avenged yourself and got your inheritance returned to you. I never can.”
“I got my inheritance and life returned to me, but I also lost years that I can never reclaim. I had to accept that there was nothing I could do about that, and you must accept that you can do nothing about events that occurred before you were born. You are Lord Hudsyn, so you may as well honor your father’s legacy by honoring his title.”
“Do you think I don’t know as much!” Henry clutched his forehead. “I’ve tried, but it only works for a short time, and then the thoughts creep back in my head—the ones that tell me I am a fraud, a usurper, the child of a degenerate who cuckolded my papa?”
“So, what if you are?”
Henry jerked upright.
“That degenerate you speak of is Ottilie’s papa, and it hasn’t diminished her in your eyes. She is the most honorable, gifted woman I have ever encountered, and I dare say you will agree.”
“It’s not the same.” Henry averted his gaze. Bastin didn’t understand. He’d lived many different lives, but Henry only knew one. And he’d lost his identity.
“But it is the same.” Bastin strode forward and sat next to Henry. “You simply can’t see it from where you’re standing. What you need is a change.”
Henry turned to face his cousin’s husband. “What are you talking about? Are you saying I should run away to the continent like my mother did for twenty years?”
“No, that’s too self-indulgent. You need to do something for someone else and take the focus off yourself.”
“Like what?”
“Come and live with us for a while. Spend some time with little Alice, and Violet will put you to work giving lessons at the college. She runs charity lessons twice a week in the evenings. It’s basic reading and writing for girls who’ve had very poor or very little schooling. It’s rewarding work, and these women are grateful to be given a chance. Why they haven’t yet made school mandatory in this country, I’ll never understand.”
“I’m not fit company; it won’t work.”
“What you mean is you’d rather lie around, filling your throat with brandy and feeling sorry for yourself while my pregnant wife frets for your safety.”
Henry sighed. How could he argue when Ottilie’s health and happiness depended on him?
“Very well,” he conceded. “I’ll come. My valet will need a day to ready my things. I’ll ride in my own carriage, so you can head back home to Ottilie.”
“No, you’ll come back on the train with me. Your valet and coachman can bring your luggage and carriage separately if you like, but I’m not leaving here without you. I promised Ottilie I’d bring you back with me, and so I shall.”
Henry opened his mouth to protest, but Bastin cut him off.
“You don’t wish to disappoint her, do you?”
Henry slumped into his chair. Ottilie was the only person he wished never to disappoint, but he was afraid it was too late for that.
Chapter Seven
And out of the cups of the heavyflowers
She emptied the rain of the thunder-showers.
—Percy Bysshe Shelley,The SensitivePlant
Greyson Manor, Kent
Bankrupt Viscount Scorned by Merchant’s Daughter
The bold letters in theKentish Timescaught Henry’s eye as he entered the dining room where Bastin and Ottilie breakfasted.
“You’re up bright and early this morning,” Ottilie said.
“That’s because I haven’t slept yet.” Henry ran a hand through his hair. “It seems sobriety is killing my sleep patterns.”
“It’s what happens when you’ve overindulged for months on end. But it will get better.” Bastin kept his tone light, but Henry did not miss the warning behind his voice.
